[Damien, for Long] Enter Hallowe'en
Oct 17, 2021 4:32:17 GMT -5
BRAVE1, Jesse Jamester, and 1 more like this
Post by Old Line Jeff on Oct 17, 2021 4:32:17 GMT -5
“I’ve seen that look in the man’s eyes before. You can tell me you know what it means, or that you’ve seen it before. Nope. You can’t.”
A flicker of static.
That face isn’t Ronnie Long’s. The hair is almost right, but the widow’s peak, the smile that shows too much of his top teeth, isn’t.
Daeriq Damien chuckles.
An old-fashioned box TV with a VCR attached to it sits in the background, the video paused, scrolling bars of static distorting the picture. Damien’s white suit is lit to a pale ghoulish green in the electronic light, and the shadows deepen his eyes, cause his teeth to glint.
“Ronnie Long has - has always had… a, dark side, shall we call it, that he doesn’t care to tap into. He kept it at bay for most of his NPW run. I’d hoped Greg Adkins, wretch that he was, would have been filthy enough to cause Ronnie to unleash it.”
“And then Xiaolong accomplishes with one kick to the head what a swarm of manchildren calling themselves ‘Sex Pirates’ couldn’t, and sets him off.”
Some more dry chuckles.
“Now Ronnie, I’ve got to assume he’s sitting at home, ignoring his beautiful wife to stare into the mirror and contemplate his soul. He’ll sulk and brood and be every bit as stereotypical as his trenchcoat look was back in the day, before sadly deciding that he’s doomed or cursed or beholden to a path or something and drag himself back to Canada to wrestle again. In the meantime, he’s being awfully quiet, so…”
His grin widens just a bit, palest green and flickering.
“I’ve stepped in for him.”
A deep breath, a sigh to hide laughter.
“He won’t appreciate it of course.I have to admit, I’m not the man’s manager. He didn’t ask me to talk. I sent this into NPW headquarters of my own initiative because, well, I do have the man’s long term best interests at heart.”
The television behind him spits a burst of static. Damien’s smile deepens.
“What Ronnie Long can do is impressive. Impressive to everyone excluding, for some reason, himself. That includes Frank Windsor, by the way. He’ll never admit it. Professional pride. It’s not unique to them, too few people are willing to give their adversaries credit in this game.”
“The reason for this archaic setup is twofold. One, I’m trying to get in the mood for Hallowe’en.”
(Yes, of course he pronounced it in that pretentious way with a glottal stop in the middle of ‘ween’.)
“And I just thought it fit.”
“The second, is because I decided to dip into the history bag and look at some of my old Global Wrestling Federation footage of myself and Ronnie. The pre-Primetime Central stuff, the stuff Phantom Booker told them to pretend didn’t exist. You can’t get it on DVD. Just my antique VHS collection.”
“If we’re trying to get in the mood for Hallowe’en, and of course ghoulish bloodshed mixed with creepy decades old electronics is appropriate for Hallowe’en, we need look no further than GWF’s ‘fabled’ Xtreme Tag Division.”
With one hand, he rotates the old tv towards the camera. It was on a swivel stand.
“That’s Ronnie in his mid 20s there. He’s got a broken kendo stick, and why yes, he is indeed trying to stab someone in the throat with it. I think the guy’s name might have been Gambit? I’m pretty sure that Gambit deserved it, although I can’t remember why. So let’s watch what Ronnie Long can really do if he’s properly motivated. Emphasis on the properly...”
Producing a remote from somewhere, Damien rewinds the tape back about twenty seconds, and presses play. Ronnie Long and the man presumably named Gambit both have unbroken kendo sticks, and are taking turns bashing each other across the chest with them.Eventually the men begin fencing with the sticks, and when the sticks collide Long’s breaks.
With a sudden reach advantage, maybeGambit begins thrashing Long with the end of the stick. A half dozen lashes and Long drops to one knee. MaybeGambit steps in, brings his overhead and shatters it over Long’s head.
Long shifts his grip from the handle to the top of his stick, just below the break. He grabs Gambit by the neck, slams him into the guardrail, bending him backwards over it, and begins trying to force the jagged ends of that kendo stick into Gambit’s throat.
Pause.
“Impressed yet?”
“I’m sure you’ll at least pretend you’re not, every promotion back then had its very own Hardcore Madman of one type or another. Maybe yours did something equally ridiculous - set himself on fire before jumping off a roof or something. Hey, more power to them.”
“They aren’t here though.”
“Ronnie is.”
“He’s not quite all the way here, but let me tell you something about Ronnie Long.”
“As talented as he is, he’s a follower. But Jeff Andrews isn’t here for him to follow. Heidi Christenson isn’t here for him to follow.”
“I’m the one that’s here.”
Damien turns back to the TV, hits fast forward.
When he starts it properly again, Daeriq Damien’s younger self is the one on the television.
There’s a cage match going on, but a whole panel has been broken out of the cage and is leaning up against the guardrail at an angle. Damien stands on the ring apron, his finger pointing, barking orders while he holds some other wrestler bent forward in powerbomb position as Long appears with a battery of some kind, which he hooks up to the piece of cage. Damien toss-powerbombs his victim into the piece of cage, and sparks fly.
Pause.
“One way or another, I’m going to find that Ronnie, and bring him back. And THEN… he’ll show you what Hallowe’en is all about.”
A flicker of static.
That face isn’t Ronnie Long’s. The hair is almost right, but the widow’s peak, the smile that shows too much of his top teeth, isn’t.
Daeriq Damien chuckles.
An old-fashioned box TV with a VCR attached to it sits in the background, the video paused, scrolling bars of static distorting the picture. Damien’s white suit is lit to a pale ghoulish green in the electronic light, and the shadows deepen his eyes, cause his teeth to glint.
“Ronnie Long has - has always had… a, dark side, shall we call it, that he doesn’t care to tap into. He kept it at bay for most of his NPW run. I’d hoped Greg Adkins, wretch that he was, would have been filthy enough to cause Ronnie to unleash it.”
“And then Xiaolong accomplishes with one kick to the head what a swarm of manchildren calling themselves ‘Sex Pirates’ couldn’t, and sets him off.”
Some more dry chuckles.
“Now Ronnie, I’ve got to assume he’s sitting at home, ignoring his beautiful wife to stare into the mirror and contemplate his soul. He’ll sulk and brood and be every bit as stereotypical as his trenchcoat look was back in the day, before sadly deciding that he’s doomed or cursed or beholden to a path or something and drag himself back to Canada to wrestle again. In the meantime, he’s being awfully quiet, so…”
His grin widens just a bit, palest green and flickering.
“I’ve stepped in for him.”
A deep breath, a sigh to hide laughter.
“He won’t appreciate it of course.I have to admit, I’m not the man’s manager. He didn’t ask me to talk. I sent this into NPW headquarters of my own initiative because, well, I do have the man’s long term best interests at heart.”
The television behind him spits a burst of static. Damien’s smile deepens.
“What Ronnie Long can do is impressive. Impressive to everyone excluding, for some reason, himself. That includes Frank Windsor, by the way. He’ll never admit it. Professional pride. It’s not unique to them, too few people are willing to give their adversaries credit in this game.”
“The reason for this archaic setup is twofold. One, I’m trying to get in the mood for Hallowe’en.”
(Yes, of course he pronounced it in that pretentious way with a glottal stop in the middle of ‘ween’.)
“And I just thought it fit.”
“The second, is because I decided to dip into the history bag and look at some of my old Global Wrestling Federation footage of myself and Ronnie. The pre-Primetime Central stuff, the stuff Phantom Booker told them to pretend didn’t exist. You can’t get it on DVD. Just my antique VHS collection.”
“If we’re trying to get in the mood for Hallowe’en, and of course ghoulish bloodshed mixed with creepy decades old electronics is appropriate for Hallowe’en, we need look no further than GWF’s ‘fabled’ Xtreme Tag Division.”
With one hand, he rotates the old tv towards the camera. It was on a swivel stand.
“That’s Ronnie in his mid 20s there. He’s got a broken kendo stick, and why yes, he is indeed trying to stab someone in the throat with it. I think the guy’s name might have been Gambit? I’m pretty sure that Gambit deserved it, although I can’t remember why. So let’s watch what Ronnie Long can really do if he’s properly motivated. Emphasis on the properly...”
Producing a remote from somewhere, Damien rewinds the tape back about twenty seconds, and presses play. Ronnie Long and the man presumably named Gambit both have unbroken kendo sticks, and are taking turns bashing each other across the chest with them.Eventually the men begin fencing with the sticks, and when the sticks collide Long’s breaks.
With a sudden reach advantage, maybeGambit begins thrashing Long with the end of the stick. A half dozen lashes and Long drops to one knee. MaybeGambit steps in, brings his overhead and shatters it over Long’s head.
Long shifts his grip from the handle to the top of his stick, just below the break. He grabs Gambit by the neck, slams him into the guardrail, bending him backwards over it, and begins trying to force the jagged ends of that kendo stick into Gambit’s throat.
Pause.
“Impressed yet?”
“I’m sure you’ll at least pretend you’re not, every promotion back then had its very own Hardcore Madman of one type or another. Maybe yours did something equally ridiculous - set himself on fire before jumping off a roof or something. Hey, more power to them.”
“They aren’t here though.”
“Ronnie is.”
“He’s not quite all the way here, but let me tell you something about Ronnie Long.”
“As talented as he is, he’s a follower. But Jeff Andrews isn’t here for him to follow. Heidi Christenson isn’t here for him to follow.”
“I’m the one that’s here.”
Damien turns back to the TV, hits fast forward.
When he starts it properly again, Daeriq Damien’s younger self is the one on the television.
There’s a cage match going on, but a whole panel has been broken out of the cage and is leaning up against the guardrail at an angle. Damien stands on the ring apron, his finger pointing, barking orders while he holds some other wrestler bent forward in powerbomb position as Long appears with a battery of some kind, which he hooks up to the piece of cage. Damien toss-powerbombs his victim into the piece of cage, and sparks fly.
Pause.
“One way or another, I’m going to find that Ronnie, and bring him back. And THEN… he’ll show you what Hallowe’en is all about.”
